


In My Arms Is Where You Ought to Be

by siximpossiblethings



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Canon, Established Relationship, F/M, Heaven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siximpossiblethings/pseuds/siximpossiblethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras takes his hand and lifts her chin up. “It wouldn’t be heaven if I didn’t have you here, ma lune.”<br/>Eponine smiles and leans into to kiss him. Heaven tastes like warm lips and the sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Arms Is Where You Ought to Be

**Author's Note:**

> This just popped into my head because I'm a wee bit in love with E/E in heaven okay. Preestablished relationship, all that jazz. Really short drabble but who cares, heaven is grand.

Heaven smells like clean mint.

Enjolras is overcome with a sense of warmth that he can’t place in his memory. It’s familiar, but he can’t remember where he knows it from.

He is in Paris and the city is quiet. The sun is bright and the wind in soft. There is a clean scent wafting through the air, one that seems out of place. It is the Paris Enjolras has dreamed about and died for.

The amis are there too, although they’re caught up speaking to one another. Enjolras slinks away, not wanting to talk to them just yet. There’s someone he has to speak to first.

Enjolras snakes down a tight alleyway. Unfortunately, in the Paris he had dreamed of, he forgot how claustrophobic it could be.

There are laughing women with their children, with wide eyes and toothy, gummy grins, as he exits the alley. He smiles along with them, the scene of plump healthy babies and toddlers more moving than it should be.

Whisps of scent from a bakery tell him he’s getting closer to where he spoke to her last. Enjolras turns a corner and her back is to him. She is wearing a clean and fully sewn dress and it is more beautiful than any fashion the bourgeoise could buy.

“Eponine?” he says, a whisper thrown out into the air.

She turns around and her eyes light up light the sun when she sees him. “Enjolras,” she says as she practically leaps into his arms. Enjolras holds her tight, gripping her body as if it is the only thing holding him to the ground. Her hair is soft and smells of mint and he realizes soon that he is home.

“You’re here,” Eponine says, still holding onto him tight. Enjolras thinks he can hear her sniffling and he’s sure he is, too. “You came to me.”

“Of course I did,” he says with a smile in his voice. “There’s not a reason I wouldn’t.” Passersby in the street glance at the odd couple, a young man with golden hair and strong hands and a young woman with dark locks and a delicate – but not weak, never weak – frame.

Eponine moves back to look at him, taking in all the features she was afraid she would never see again. It wasn’t that she was afraid Enjolras would never make it here. It’s that she was afraid he would come here with someone else and not a single memory of her.

“Did it hurt?” she asks. God, please let it have been quick. “When you…”

“Just for a moment,” he says. “It was quick. There was a sharp feeling in my chest but after that, it was like going to sleep.”

She nods as she leans forward, breathing in the shirt he wears. “Good,” says Eponine. Her fingers examine the cloth on his chest, not a spot of blood to be seen.

Enjolras takes his hand and lifts her chin up. “It wouldn’t be heaven if I didn’t have you here, _ma lune._ ”

Eponine smiles and leans into to kiss him. Heaven tastes like warm lips and the sun.


End file.
